


glass star, glass heart

by wheelspokes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining, custom star charts, gifting gone wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheelspokes/pseuds/wheelspokes
Summary: Should he really be buying a custom star map just because Sakusa criticized Bokuto’s proposal plan? Can someone even remember the placement of the stars when they can’t see many stars on a normal night thanks to light pollution?There are a thousand reasons to not press the confirmation button; Atsumu buys the gift anyways.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 17
Kudos: 351
Collections: So beautiful It makes me want to cry





	glass star, glass heart

**Author's Note:**

> This was first about naming stars after people, and then I learned those sites are unofficial. And then they were stargazing, and then I realized Japan has a lot of light pollution. I hope you enjoy this final version.
> 
> This fic does have some POV switches as I couldn't seem to write this without them.

Atsumu isn’t surprised that Bokuto is going to propose to Akaashi. Absolutely no one would be surprised; the only thing about Bokuto and Akaashi’s relationship that shocks him is that they haven’t gotten married yet. 

It isn’t a question of whether or not Bokuto and Akaashi will get married, but rather when one of them will finally pop the question. When Bokuto climbs on top of one of MSBY’s lock room benches and claps his hands together to get their attention, Atsumu realizes the question has been answered. 

“Keiji is a star,” Bokuto announces. There’s a slight tremble in his voice and there’s sheer love stored in his eyes. 

“I’m going to name a star after him and take him stargazing at the park near my apartment after I buy a professional telescope. And then after he looks at the star I named after him, he’ll turn around and see me with the ring.”

Bokuto stops waving his arms around so he can unclench his fist and stare at his empty hands. He’s so enthusiastic that Atsumu can practically see a ring box in his open palm. 

In all honesty, Atsumu is surprised Bokuto’s plans are this tame. He had half-expected for Bokuto to fund a JAXA space expedition and then train to become an astronaut so he could take Akaashi into space or some romantic shit like that. Maybe Bokuto would even beat up some alien on Mars with his Bokuto Beam and then drop down on one knee to propose. 

“Keiji says we’re the stars of the universe,” Bokuto whispers, eyes still glued on the invisible galaxy spanning from his wrist to his fingertips. 

The sweetness of it all nearly makes him gag. But Bokuto is one of his closest friends on the team, the first member of the Monster Generation to join him in the Jackals, and someone that Atsumu will never be able to hate even though he’s painfully single while Bokuto is painfully in love. Atsumu slings his arms around Barnes and Inukai and whoops.

“Are you stupid?” Sakusa’s scathing voice cuts cleanly through any possible celebration. The roaring cheers come to a screeching halt, and the ensuing silence is so heavy that Atsumu can’t even open his mouth to speak. They’re helpless to watch Sakusa continue speaking. 

“Why would you name a star after him? Only the International Astronomical Union can name stars. None of those websites are official. No one would be proud of a waste of money; just point at any star you can see and name it yourself.” Sakusa is picking up momentum, and despite every teammate glaring at him, he doesn’t shut his mouth like he normally does after saying more than three words. 

“There’s also no point in getting a professional telescope when you’ve never touched one in your life. Invest in one meant for beginners instead, or even better, just use a pair of binoculars. But that’s under the assumption you even find a suitable spot. Why the park near your apartment? Are you trying to make Akaashi-san turn you down? Japan has horrible visibility for stargazing, we can barely see any stars in Osaka. Do some more research.”

That’s the biggest lie he’s ever heard in his life; Akaashi wouldn’t turn Bokuto down even if Bokuto had stranded them on Mars after a failed JAXA space expedition and was now covered in alien guts after firing his Bokuto Beam. 

Atsumu finally gathers enough strength to speak up. “Lighten up, Omi-kun,” he says, lips twisting into a disappointed scowl. “Would it kill ya to be a little less blunt?”

Sakusa’s face flushes with a mix of guilt, anger, and something that looks like jealousy. 

“Sorry,” he mutters. 

Before Atsumu even realizes the Sakusa Kiyoomi has the word sorry in his vocabulary, Sakusa is stomping out of the locker room. The door slams closed behind him. When Atsumu turns back around to face his teammates, he finds himself as the new center of attention. 

Meian, their captain on and off the court, clears his throat. “I can’t deny that Sakusa wasn’t being overly harsh, but maybe you should use some more tact too next time Atsumu.”

Atsumu lets the tension fall out of his shoulders as he leans into the teasing. Bokuto is no longer frowning, an infectious grin now taking over his face as Inukai leads the charge to tear Atsumu’s pride to shreds. If this is what it takes for his friend to smile, then so be it. 

He just wishes Sakusa would give a proper apology tomorrow. 

...

Bokuto forgives Sakusa for his outburst after Sakusa arrives to practice the next morning with an article with stargazing spots he printed out and a pair of binoculars for Bokuto to use during his proposal plan. The rest of MSBY forgives Sakusa after Bokuto broke the sound barrier with his excited screech. 

So there’s really no reason for Atsumu to be sprawled across his couch and scrolling through dozens of different star registry websites. Sakusa was right: none of them are official. The gesture is still terribly sweet, and Atsumu knows Akaashi would love the meaning behind the star certificate Sakusa denounced yesterday, but his nose scrunches at the thought of buying a star certificate that he could photoshop himself in under five minutes.

He clicks on link after link, getting redirected to other gift ideas until one of the images enters his mind and refuses to leave. He finds himself returning to a circle filled with stars in the same position as they were on a day years ago that meant something to someone. 

The tiny rational part of his brain tells him to pause. Should he really be spending 6,500 yen on a custom star map just because Sakusa criticized Bokuto’s proposal plan? Can someone even remember the placement of the stars when they can’t see many stars on a normal night thanks to light pollution?

Nothing about this line of reasoning makes sense, and yet Atsumu settles on a website, selects a design, inputs a date, writes a short caption, and finds himself on the payment page with his credit card in hand. 

The Jackals would laugh at him if they knew what he was going to do. Instead, Atsumu calls the only group of people who will at least give him advice after laughing at him.

“So yer saying that ya wanted to name a star after Sakusa, but then ya found out those websites are a scam, and now ya want to buy Sakusa a star chart all ‘cause he was mean to yer friend?” Kita asks. “Last year ya didn’t remember any of our birthdays, not even yer own.”

His golden eyes pierce through his soul with a single tilt of his head, which shouldn’t even be possible over a video call, and yet Atsumu is sinking into his couch as he’s reminded of all of his inadequacies. 

Atsumu timidly nods. The movement makes him sink even deeper into his couch. When Kita puts it like that, it sounds stupid. After he somehow managed to forget his and Osamu’s birthday, he finally joined Facebook so he could keep track of whose birthday was coming up. Two days ago, he even sent Suna a box of chocolate dipped strawberries for his birthday, only to be sent a video of Osamu eating all of them in response. 

“I guess yer right and I shouldn’t —”

Kita’s frown slips away and a grin is left in its place. “I say ya should do it. Why not?”

Oh yeah. Aran was the voice of reason on the team back in high school. It’s a shame he’s out with his team so he can't join the call until he's back home.

Inarizaki is filled with enablers, and Atsumu listens to them anyway.

Ginjima just lets out a sigh. During their graduation ceremony, Ginjima had told Atsumu he was going to university in Fukuoka so he could finally escape the Miya twins. Atsumu had only been half sure he was joking. “Call Aran next time, but yes. ‘Sides, there’s no stopping ya once ya have an idea.”

“Bring yer credit card closer to the camera,” Akagi says. Atsumu tucks his card under his thigh and gives his camera his middle finger. 

Osamu has disgust written all over his face. “Tsumu, yer so in love with Omi-kun that it’s gross, ya idiot.”

This final line pushes him over the edge. He ignores his brother because he most definitely has no idea what he’s talking about, inspects his shopping cart and the shipping address, and presses the confirmation button. 

In love with _Sakusa_? That’s the worst joke Atsumu has ever heard, and he’s heard a lot of bad jokes. All he’s doing is buying him a star map to demonstrate that Bokuto needs to edit his proposal plan, not start drafting from scratch. 

Buyers remorse inevitably hits him two hours later. The alumni of Inarizaki Volleyball Club get their chance to laugh at Atsumu when Aran joins the call and berates him in front of everyone. 

...

There is a package for Kiyoomi that he did not order for himself.

There is a bank statement and a handful of advertisements in his mailbox and a large, flat box containing something Kiyoomi most definitely did not order. The only other name on the box is for a company he’s never heard of listed as the return address. 

Perhaps it’s from a family member or a close friend. It could also be from the MSBY Black Jackals, whether they’re a teammate or a staff member. The only people who know his address should fall into these three categories. But Kiyoomi can’t imagine anyone sending him a package in the first week of February instead of waiting a month until his birthday; if it’s someone from the Jackals, then they could have just waited to give this to him at work. 

Besides, no one from his team would send him a gift after he yelled at Bokuto. The guilt still claws at his heart even though he gave Bokuto a heartfelt apology the next day. Bokuto had reassured them that the binoculars were more than enough. Kiyoomi still insisted on taking him to dinner and helping him research stargazing spots with how difficult they are to find in Japan. 

Truthfully, Bokuto’s idea of naming a star after Akaashi was romantic. Kiyoomi has no one who would do anything remotely similar for him. There’s no one who holds enough love in their heart for him to plan something as grand as this, not when Wakatoshi turned him down five months ago, not when Kiyoomi still remembers the stings of promises left unfulfilled in high school and then college.

This box was delivered to his apartment complex and not to the Jackals’ office where fans typically mail their gifts if they aren’t distributed at a fan meet or after a volleyball match. It has to be from a fan, but if a fan has his address, then Kiyoomi should consider talking to the team’s agent about safety and potentially considering moving to a new complex. 

Then again, his apartment complex was built only a handful of years ago, and its security measures had been one of the factors that pushed him to sign a lease here. If he really does have an issue, a chat with the landlord and a sizable chunk of money would lead to an installation of more cameras. 

Kiyoomi can’t say he’s not curious as to what the contents of the package are. He hates getting gifts from fans because they’re oftentimes sweets and he has no way of knowing how they were made, who has come into contact with them, or what their exact contents are. The plushies other fans offer aren’t much better: a stranger holds a plush rabbit by the ear and Kiyoomi is too busy thinking about germs to properly thank his fan for their support.

His hands are already encased in the cheap disposable plastic gloves he bought for collecting his mail. He takes his bank statement, tosses out the advertisements, and carries the package over to his apartment. 

Once he’s outside his home, he ducks inside to fetch his packet of disinfectant wipes. The exterior of the cardboard box is wiped down three times, and when he pops the tabs of the box open, he wipes down the plastic wrap around the framed gift twice. The plastic is then removed, and he wipes down the actual frame a final three times before discarding the cardboard and bringing the frame inside his apartment.

The gift is a map of stars dotted across a galaxy captured within a circle. Thin lines denoting the position of the stars stretch across the map to form a grid. The star map is almost as large as his torso, and the wooden frame accentuates the cobalt-colored canvas. 

_The day you joined MSBY and began to change what volleyball means to me_ is printed beneath the star chart.

Sandwiched between the date he was introduced to the team and Ohasuhigashi, their team’s home city, is _Kiyoomi_. 

Not Sakusa, or even Sakusa Kiyoomi. Just Kiyoomi. 

His family, as big as it is, wouldn’t spend over 5,000 yen on a star map without announcing the delivery of the gift in the group chat Motoya insisted on creating four years ago. It can’t be from his friends either because his former Itachiyama teammates only mention his meteor speech to tease him at reunions, and while his friends from college all know he majored in astrophysics, they only talk when he finds himself in Tokyo. The Jackals can be ruled out too because most of them call him Omi, the stupid nickname Atsumu called him until everyone else adopted it. 

No one calls him by his given name, so the gift has to be from a fan, or a group of fans; they know how much he hates being gifted sweets he can’t eat and trinkets that can’t be easily cleaned. No one else would drop this much money on a gift for him. 

It turns out he’ll need to ask the landlord for an extra security camera for his floor after all.

But why wouldn’t they tell him who they are, and why wouldn’t they give this package to him at a game? Is it because of the stadium baggage restrictions? Are they hiding because they’ll reveal their identities later in a social media post?

Kiyoomi thinks about it as he hangs the framed star chart in his bedroom. He thinks about it when he eats dinner, showers, brushes his teeth, runs through his complicated skin routine, and drifts to sleep. 

He’s still thinking about who the mystery sender can be the next day at practice, only stopping when Inukai calls him over to join in on making fun of Atsumu’s latest poor financial decisions.

...

Kiyoomi doesn’t bring up the star chart at practice. Why should he? None of them would have any clues as to who sent it. And why should he mention the gift to anyone at all when it was only meant for him?

“Ya got any gifts lately?” Atsumu asks at their next match, his arms filled with small bags of baked goods and stuffed animals. 

Kiyoomi scowls at the bags dangling off his fingertips. One of their staff members had given him a pair of nitrile gloves before the fan greeting and his fans had diligently rubbed hand sanitizer across their hands before presenting him their gifts, but being given anything at all wasn’t desirable. “Unfortunately.”

Atsumu droops at his words before covering the slump of his shoulders up with a laugh. “If ya don’t like the things yer fans give ya, I’d be happy to take them!”

“Atsumu, you’re horrible,” Barnes says as he passes by. He’s clutching his own fair share of plushies. Atsumu demands that Barnes take the insult back, and when Meian tells Atsumu to appreciate the mountain of gifts cradled to his chest, Atsumu groans over being mistaken as ungrateful for his fans. 

Whatever point Atsumu was trying to make is lost, and Kiyoomi watches his teammates squabble before breaking away and heading back to their locker room. 

Bokuto declares his updated proposal plan to the team, and this time Kiyoomi claps alongside the rest of the Jackals. Two weeks later, Hinata climbs on top of the same bench to tell the team about the contract he signed with a team in Brazil. Kiyoomi claps him on the back, wishes him good luck in one of the best volleyball leagues in the world, and doesn’t interrupt anything. 

His landlord installs another security camera and changes his locks after Kiyoomi pays a heavy fee, and Atsumu, who lives two floors above him, does a double take at the sight of Kiyoomi waiting outside his apartment for their landlord to give him his new key. 

At home, he sits on his bed and stares at the star chart mounted to his wall and thinks that maybe there is someone who loves him out there. His search history is cluttered with stories behind constellations and research papers on stars. Star charts are their own brand of unofficial with how the light pollution in Japan’s major cities prevents Kiyoomi from ever having a true stargazing experience or even remembering what the sky looked like when he met the team, but he’s so touched that it couldn’t matter less.

Every night before he tucks himself into bed, he taps the glass of the frame twice. Kiyoomi spends so much time staring at the map that when he closes his eyes and drifts to sleep, the stars in his dreams are always in the same position as they were on the day he joined the Jackals. 

Kiyoomi notices at the start of March that Atsumu hasn’t been talking to him as much. Atsumu’s tosses are as perfect as ever and still carry the same commanding force Kiyoomi experienced in high school over a collection of training camps, but Atsumu isn’t _talking_ to him anymore. 

Atsumu stands next to Bokuto more, the two of them discussing wedding plans rather than scheming of ways to annoy Kiyoomi.When he's not talking to Bokuto, he's laughing with Hinata over Kageyama’s adventures in Italy. 

Kiyoomi shrugs it off. Atsumu’s absence only means that he now gets to have civil conversations with the real adults of the team. In any case, Atsumu's absence can be explained by anyone who knows anything about the Jackals. Bokuto is engaged and Atsumu is in the wedding party, and Hinata is leaving the country next season. 

But none of these reassurances fill the emptiness in Kiyoomi’s heart as he lays in a hotel room and hears Barnes's snoring. He hadn’t even needed to fight for the bed farthest from the hotel door. Barnes had taken his keycard from Meian, held the door open for Kiyoomi, took a shower, and then went to sleep on the bed Kiyoomi didn’t want.

There was no Atsumu squawking in the bathroom because Kiyoomi made him wipe down the shower again, no Atsumu digging around the desk drawers for the provided notepad and pen so he could scribble a drawing, no Atsumu asking for the pillows Kiyoomi wasn’t using so he could stack them all up for when he inevitably rolled around in his sleep. 

There was no Atsumu in his hotel room at all.

His heartbeat is louder than Barnes’s snoring. Kiyoomi closes his eyes, forces Atsumu out of his head, and thinks of the comfort of his star map until he falls asleep.

...

After a match against the EJP Raijins in the final few weeks of the season, Kiyoomi is cornered by a reporter. He spends precious seconds thinking and hands out answers that have already been said in at least three other interviews. 

The final question, however, is new.

“We know that you’re not fond of receiving gifts, but have there been any creative gifts that transcend this? Which gift from your fans is your favorite?”

Kiyoomi is fairly sure that this is a question that shouldn't be asked or answered in case someone’s ego gets inflated. But he doesn’t need to think of a response for this, even though he just took 30 seconds to think over the questions that have been asked of him before this one.

“A while ago, someone mailed me a custom star chart for the day I joined the Jackals,” he says as delicately as he can. “I was able to wipe down the box, and then disinfect the frame as well. And while it’s something I can touch, the gift is a reminder of one of the best days in my life. The most meaningful aspect of it is intangible.” 

Five meters away, Atsumu jerks violently and drops his pen while signing someone's autograph board. The fan shrieks in surprise, and by the time Kiyoomi has whipped his head around, a staff member has already provided a new autograph board. Atsumu is murmuring apologies and offering to lift her child up for a photo. 

Motoya walks over after he poses with the final fan waiting to meet him, confusion dripping off his face along with beads of sweat. "Since when did you have a star chart for the day you joined your team? Who in the world would pay for that?" 

Atsumu jumps in before Kiyoomi can tell his cousin he has no idea who sent him the map. "I thought ya hated wasting money on something' frivolous like that, Omi-kun. Ya rained on poor Bokkun’s parade when he wanted to name a star after Akaashi-kun.”

After weeks of ignoring him, is Atsumu going to try to pick a fight in the middle of the stadium while fans are still strolling around the court?

"They didn’t name a star after me, they sent me a star map,” Kiyoomi snaps. “It'd be a waste to not appreciate the energy and money that went into sending me a gift.”

“Hasn’t stopped ya from not appreciating gifts from yer fans before.”

So what if he's researched more about stars in his free time these last few months than he did back when he was taking astronomy classes in college for his major? 

"Then again Miya, no one gives you anything meaningful, do they?" 

Motoya shakes his head disapprovingly. Atsumu sneers at him, vigorously shaking the various gifts he got from fans today alone, and stomps off to go talk to Suna. When Kiyoomi squints, he can spot Suna holding his cellphone as he films their exchange.

How did Suna even have his phone right after their game ended? The EJP Raijins need to stop catering to the unnecessary needs of their players if they want to win more games. Kiyoomi tells this to Motoya; Motoya just rolls his eyes and points at the nitrile gloves on Kiyoomi’s hands.

...

Bokuto ambushes him on his walk back to his apartment complex. Kiyoomi welcomes his presence. He used to walk home with Atsumu since they lived two floors apart, but Atsumu hasn’t waited for him after practice ever since he stopped talking to Kiyoomi, and he isn’t going to walk with Kiyoomi tonight.

Bokuto fills the silence of the ten minute walk by detailing how he proposed to Akaashi, and he asks about custom star charts and gifts he can give to his fiance, the star of his universe. He’s overeager and enthusiastic and Kiyoomi wants to slink away.

He returns home, taps the glass of his framed star chart twice like he’s done every night since he hung it up, and falls asleep.

...

Kiyoomi wakes up to hell on earth. 

Some people might think that's an exaggeration. But to Kiyoomi, 49 missed calls, 232 new messages, and so many social media notifications that his PR agent has sent him 15 frantic messages telling him to call her as soon as he can, this is reality. 

Kiyoomi looks at all of the missed calls from Motoya, Bokuto, Hinata, Iizuna, and even Wakatoshi. He opens Twitter. He closes his eyes and blindly refreshes his feed, hoping that he'll have some answers soon. Before he opens his eyes to see what crisis he’s landed himself in, he prays his PR agent won’t murder him. 

The first thing Kiyoomi sees is a tweet from Suna. A clip of Kiyoomi and Atsumu’s confrontation from yesterday fills his screen, and the number of views is staggeringly high.

The second thing he sees is Twitter user Akagi Michinari saying _HAHA DIDN'T ATSUMU BUY THE SKY CHART WHEN HE CALLED US ONE NIGHT AND THEN ARAN YELLED AT HIM AFTER._ A blurry photo of Atsumu’s credit card is attached below.

Kiyoomi scrolls through Atsumu’s profanities and his triumphant shout that he cancelled his card, but he doesn’t see Atsumu denying that he is the mystery sender anywhere. 

What the fuck.

Kiyoomi sits up in his bed. He’s never this alert in the morning on his day off, and yet here he is, wide awake at 10 AM on a Sunday. 

Across the room, the sunlight catches on the glass framing his star chart, giving him a cheerful wink as if he wasn’t just betrayed. 

What. The. Fuck. 

His phone lights up with an incoming call from Motoya. He accepts the call. 

“Since when were you dating Atsumu? Why did I have to hear from Suna and _Akagi fucking Michinari_ that Atsumu bought you a star map? I didn’t beat Akagi for best libero and in the height department every year in high school so he could tell the whole world that my cousin, my best friend, is dating a Miya!”

Ah. Kiyoomi had forgotten Motoya had some unexplainable rivalry with Inarizaki’s former libero. Most people saw Motoya as a walking ball of sunshine, but all it took for him to grimace was the mention of Akagi. Once they earned their red National Team jerseys, Yaku Morisuke landed himself right next to Akagi on Motoya’s shitlist for reasons Kiyoomi still doesn’t know. 

"I didn't know it was from Miya!" Kiyoomi hisses into his phone. His PR agent is going to hate him even more than she already does for this absolute disaster. "If I knew, then I would have thrown the gift away!" 

Kiyoomi can practically hear Motoya rolling his eyes. "Kiyoomi, let me change my question. Since when were you aware that Atsumu likes you back?"

“ _What?_ I do _not_ like Miya Atsumu!" 

Why had Kiyoomi called Motoya again? He should have ignored him and called Wakatoshi for advice on how to handle this. If he’s capable of sitting through a phone call from the guy who turned him down, then he can surely sit through some misguided call from Motoya futilely trying to remain the most informed player in the V.League. Better yet, he could talk to his PR agent. 

"Kiyoomi, every time you have called me ever since you joined MSBY, you have talked about Atsumu. It started with his hair, because suddenly he no longer slicked his bangs across his forehead to make him look like a forgettable member of a 2012 boy band.”

Kiyoomi opens his mouth to refute the statement, but before he can say anything, Motoya continues with his speech.

“Then you complained about how he sticks his tongue out in every photo. Why did you pay attention to that? And then after that, it was his thighs, and you said he should stop bending down for his sets. Who even complains about getting good tosses?" 

"Even if I did like him, which I _don’t_ , there's no way that Miya sees me as anything more than a teammate." 

“He bought you a star map. No one buys an expensive gift for someone who's just a friend when it’s not even their birthday." 

“It’s not like star charts are official or anything —”

Motoya’s eyes soften. “Gifts don’t have to be official to be appreciated Kiyoomi. Isn’t that what you said yesterday? And official or not, I know that you hung it up in your room.”

It's a bad time for Kiyoomi to remember he's never won an argument against Motoya in his life. 

"I don't like him." 

Motoya sighs. He's been doing a lot in their calls lately. Kiyoomi is beginning to understand why. 

"I'm not even going to bother anymore. You're an idiot. Atsumu is one too for falling for you." 

He hangs up. The sound of their disconnected line fills his room and leaves Kiyoomi with a hollow victory.

When he looks at the star chart mounted to his wall once more, he no longer feels comforted by the sight. The longer he stares at it, the more foreign it becomes. He feels like a stranger in his own home. 

Kiyoomi gently slides the frame off of its hooks. It’s heavier in his hands than it was when he first unboxed it. When he places the map in the back of his closet, a sense of peace washes over him. 

His bedroom walls are bare again. Relief envelopes him. Kiyoomi takes a deep breath, and he already feels lighter than he did when he first woke up to find his phone screen overwhelmed by notifications.

Despite all this, a part of his heart feels empty. He breathes in, breathes out, and repeats until he can ignore the sting.

...

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It was just supposed to be a gift to show Sakusa that official recognition didn’t mean anything and that Bokuto’s idea of naming a star after Akaashi wasn’t terrible. 

Sakusa never talked about the star chart. There had been no locker room conversations, no social media posts, nothing. Maybe the star chart was a scam and the company never shipped it out. Maybe Osaka’s light pollution didn’t want anyone knowing the truth behind star coordinates and the package got lost in the postal system. Maybe Sakusa did receive it, only to toss it out. 

Atsumu had slowly wilted at the confirmation that Sakusa was right: no one appreciates a waste of money and his grocery budget for the month of February had taken a hit. He’d been so confident that the guy who talked about meteors and stars and what being an astrophysics major meant would like the star chart, but all his research had gone down the drain instead. 

The worst part was how his eyes were always lingering on Sakusa as he tried to search for clues, until one day he found himself staring at Sakusa and hoping he’d turn around and notice him. Sakusa never did, and Atsumu wilted even more. All he could do was distract himself by distancing himself from Sakusa. 

He never knew for certain what happened to the map, not until Sakusa confessed it was his favorite gift in an interview. 

It’s Atsumu’s fault that their names are trending on Twitter. It’s Atsumu’s fault that Sakusa will have to deal with the consequences of his interview answer even though it’s Atsumu who sent the gift and once meant for it to be a joke. 

Atsumu calls their team’s head PR agent and feeds them a story about Atsumu not wanting to forget everyone’s birthday again for another year in a row, only for there to be a mishap in shipping as his birthday gift to Sakusa arrived one month too early. He even politely threatens the Inarizaki group chat to follow the story so Sakusa doesn’t have to deal with more backlash and he doesn’t even bat an eyelash when Akagi says he’s whipped.

He forwards his excuse to Sakusa and tells him to stick to it for the media’s sake. He leaves seven different apologies; Sakusa doesn’t respond to a single one.

Sleep eludes him that night. He doesn’t find any rest the day after either. When Atsumu closes his eyes, all he can picture is Sakusa’s eyes widening in shock before he stomps off and refuses to speak a word to Atsumu ever again.

Atsumu doesn’t want that. He really, really doesn’t want that. Because he’s fallen in love with Sakusa at some point, and now he’s ruined all the chances he never had. 

On Tuesday morning, he staggers into the locker room fifteen minutes late. His hair is a mess, his shirt is on backwards, and the rings under his eyes are deeper than two nights of lost sleep should be. Atsumu had studied his reflection in his bathroom mirror until he no longer recognized himself that morning, and then left to head to practice without fixing a single thing. There wasn’t any point in cleaning up his appearance. 

Sakusa is the only one left in the locker room, dutifully rubbing lotion into his hands before another arduous day of practice.

Over three months ago, Atsumu had hoped Sakusa would apologize to Bokuto properly. He owes Sakusa the same now.

“Forget about the star chart.”

Sakusa whips his head around, his eyes widening just as they did in Atsumu’s nightmares. Atsumu almost forgets to breathe. But this is no longer about what Atsumu wants; it’s what Sakusa deserves, and Sakusa deserves a real apology from him, not a text message that gets left on read. Sakusa deserves for Atsumu to stop making his life worse.

“It was a joke. Ya were being mean to Bokkun when he wanted to name a star after Akaashi-kun, so I bought ya something similar to see if ya would like it. It wasn’t necessary for ya to keep the gift out of pity or tell it to the reporter. It's not like winning against some homemade chocolate ya never eat is something I'm proud of. Sorry I gave ya something ya don't like. But the part I wrote about you changing what volleyball means to me — I meant that. I really meant it.”

Sakusa doesn’t say anything. He makes eye contact with Atsumu for one brilliant, excruciating second as he dips his head in a nod, severing their connection to face his locker once more. 

He doesn’t even get a verbal answer. Sakusa shuts his locker and begins to make his way to the gym. Atsumu’s heart deflates. 

“Sorry Sakusa,” he says quietly. 

Sakusa doesn’t look back. Once more, the locker room door slams closed behind him with a heavy thud as Atsumu helplessly watches him leave.

...

Atsumu continues to avoid Sakusa. It’s easier than it was before. When his heart is filled with longing, all he needs to do to make it stop is remember that Sakusa is annoyed with him. 

This time, Sakusa avoids him too. 

The MSBY Black Jackals take on the Schweiden Adlers in the V.League Championships. Atsumu gets through the entire match without calling Sakusa the nickname he never liked, no matter how much Atsumu misses saying it. Sakusa sticks his hand under the net to shake hands with Ushijima, and the admiration in his eyes is a sight that has never been directed towards Atsumu. 

“Good luck in Poland,” Atsumu tells him when Ushijima breaks away from Sakusa to greet him. “Beat everyone there so Japan is unstoppable at the Olympics next year.”

Ushijima shakes his hand, and his grip is so firm that Atsumu barely manages to suppress his flinch. “Thank you, but we still have the break in between seasons on the National Team before I head to Poland. Good luck with Kiyoomi now that you’re together.”

He’s off to go converse with Bokuto before Atsumu can tell him how incorrect his last statement is. 

Atsumu attends Hinata’s going away party and pretends to not notice how Sakusa sits as far away from him as possible. Hinata asks their MSBY Monster Generation quartet for a selfie, and when Sakusa grudgingly accepts, Atsumu makes sure to stand at the opposite edge from him.

Atsumu and Sakusa are no longer trending on Twitter. After Atsumu released his cover story, Sakusa had followed up with one of his own that left fans booing at the lack of a relationship and at the speed of which Atsumu cancelled his credit card. Their PR team has nearly throttled the two of them the next business day though. 

The offseason arrives. Atsumu returns to Hyogo, and the 530 kilometers between him and Sakusa don’t feel any different than the length of the volleyball court they stood on together. 

Inarizaki holds a reunion in Onigiri Miya. Akagi boasts about his recent victory over Komori and thanks Atsumu for the drama, going so far as to pay for Atsumu’s meal when Osamu announces everyone but his brother gets to eat for free. 

“I still can’t believe ya bought that thing for Sakusa,” Aran laughs.

Atsumu looks down at the umeboshi onigiri in his hands. He hadn’t felt like eating Osamu’s minced tuna and spring onion onigiri today for some inexplicable reason. “Yeah. I can’t either.”

...

Kiyoomi dreads the National Team Training Camp. 

Going back home to Tokyo during his break hadn’t been a good choice. His parents had grilled him on who Miya Atsumu was and refused to listen to him when he insisted they weren’t even friends, and Komori only let go of the Akagi thing when Kiyoomi transferred him pictures from a Jackals party gone wrong. 

But resuming training with the National Team and the Jackals is a special sort of hell where he’s forced to dodge Atsumu. Avoiding his setter is hard, but Kiyoomi manages to accomplish the feat. He wasn’t the top high school ace, college MVP, and honors student for nothing.

It kind of hurts to see Komori laughing with Atsumu over some deodorant commercial. Atsumu has clicked back into the life he’s made for himself, has easily subtracted Kiyoomi from the equation after the star chart reveal blew up in both of their faces. 

Atsumu can toss to anyone he wants; Kiyoomi can only get tosses from Kageyama, potentially Hinata or Hoshiumi.

But Atsumu still tosses to him. Kiyoomi leaps into the air, and he finds the ball just where he wants it to be, and if he tilts his head when he descends, he can see Atsumu wearing a soft smile as he stares at him.

Kiyoomi doesn’t allow himself to think about it, doesn’t allow himself to think about the way Atsumu’s smile begins to form the familiar sound of Omi before he pauses and spits out Sakusa, the smile now replaced with a grimace.

He turns away and goes to practice with Kageyama. There’s something lacking in Kageyama’s sets that Atsumu’s have, and he doesn’t understand what it is until he’s hit with the realization that Motoya was right all those months ago as he’s cleaning his apartment before the V.League season is back in full swing. 

Kiyoomi is searching through his closet for clothes that no longer fit when he roughly slides the doors of his closet open. Something scrapes against the wall and begins to topple over, and his volleyball instincts cause him to stick his foot out to save whatever object has fallen. 

It’s heavier than he expected. It’s definitely not a sweater. His fingers grasp onto a wooden frame and glass paneling, and he slowly pulls out the star chart Atsumu sent him.

He has somehow forgotten the existence of the gift that once brought him peace, the pattern of the stars that appeared in every dream, the comfort that came from tapping the glass twice every night. As he stares at the frame in his hands, it all comes rushing back and leaves him with serenity cascading through his soul. 

_I think I miss Atsumu_ , Kiyoomi thinks. _I think I might love him._

Oh.

He’s in love with Miya Atsumu.

...

He has five weeks until their first official match and less than a week until Atsumu’s birthday. This year, Atsumu had reserved a room at a restaurant to ensure he remembered the date of his own birthday celebration. Meian had passed an invitation to Kiyoomi the other day, leaving him wondering why Atsumu couldn’t have handed it to him himself. 

“Motoya, you have to go with me,” Kiyoomi pleads in a video call. 

His internet connection freezes, prolonging the duration of Motoya’s frown. “Sorry, I’m still avoiding Akagi. You should know how that works; you’re only trying to talk to Atsumu now.”

“Isn’t Atsumu your friend?”

Motoya ends the call to avoid answering the question. 

Kiyoomi is left to think of a Plan B. The hate Motoya’s body holds for a certain Akagi Michinari is astounding. Does Washio know about it, or is Washio still living the lie that his boyfriend likes world peace and rainbows and not trying to attack a libero he met in high school?

The framed star chart is mounted to his wall again. Kiyoomi studies it until he thinks of an idea. 

He flips open his laptop and thinks of sunlight, golden laughter, a one syllable lullaby, and Atsumu, Atsumu, _Atsumu_. 

...

Four days later on October fifth, one hour before they’re supposed to meet at the restaurant Atsumu reserved a room in, Kiyoomi climbs two sets of stairs and rings Atsumu’s doorbell.

Atsumu hesitantly opens his door. His hair isn’t styled yet, his tie is crooked, and he’s wearing fluffy pink slippers, but he still leans against his door frame and looks at Kiyoomi. 

“I thought ya were ignoring me.”

“You ignored me too.”

Atsumu shrugs the accusation off. “Nah. I stopped a while ago. It was too much effort after I found out ya were trying to be as far away from me as possible. Why should I have to ignore ya when ya did it for me?”

That makes Kiyoomi want to step away and march back into the safety of his own apartment. But he doesn’t. He thrusts the envelope in his hands into Atsumu’s face. “Happy birthday Miya.”

Atsumu’s eyes narrow as he snatches the envelope and tries to retreat back into his apartment. Kiyoomi uses the strength he’s gained from years and years of volleyball to hold Atsumu’s door in place until Atsumu admits defeat and stays in his doorway. 

The envelope flap is peeled open with a sigh. When he overturns it, two sets of tickets fall into his outstretched palm. 

His brow furrows. “Are these train tickets to Hyogo?”

“As well as tickets to the Nishi-Harima Observatory in Hyogo. Japan doesn’t have good stargazing spots, but I think you’d like to go somewhere in your home prefecture. I’ve never been there myself, so I can’t promise anything, but I’d really like to go together —”

“Why are ya doing this to me?” Atsumu asks. His voice cracks, breaking the uncomfortable silence that was beginning to form, and Kiyoomi can see how his eyes are now glassy.

The emptiness of his heart swells as he sees Atsumu on the verge of tears. But if Atsumu is going to cry, then Kiyoomi might as well let all the words gathering at the tip of his tongue out of his mouth. 

“I missed you. I missed you a lot, and I’m sorry for avoiding you for so long and making this mess.”

He continues before his head can catch up with his heart and make him stop talking.

“Atsumu, I think I might be in love with you. I’m sorry because I shouldn’t have done this on your birthday, but I can’t take it back now.”

“No, ya can’t,” Atsumu agrees. 

Kiyoomi has never liked tangible gifts, but he found an exception to this all the way back in February, and he finds another one now. Atsumu wraps his arms around Kiyoomi’s waist and cries into the crook of his neck and kisses his cheeks. There are tears soaking through his collar, and he should find it gross, but all Kiyoomi feels is the warmth of loving someone and being loved in return.

“Ya can’t take any of that back Kiyoomi,” Atsumu demands. 

“I don’t ever plan on it.”

In the end, they’re ten minutes late to the restaurant, and Atsumu almost loses his reservation. But Kiyoomi’s fingers are laced together with Atsumu’s, the hollowness in his chest filled to the brim with love, warmth, and everything else Atsumu gives him. 

An empty midnight blue sky accompanies them on the walk back home. Kiyoomi thinks he wants to map out the positions of tonight’s stars anyways. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find me on twitter as @myo_caron


End file.
